


Happy Pi[e] Day

by UmbraeCalamitas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 3.14, BTGOG, Btgog!verse, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Dean loves to bake, Family moments, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mighty Morphin Morpheus, Nightmares, Pi, Pi Day, Pi[e] Day, Pie Day, Pilsbury Doughboy Biscuit Cylinders are the bane of my existence, SO MUCH PIE, TheRiverScribe, They're fucking terrifying, Walt & Roy, Wee bit of angst, bad memories, brief moment of violence, brief moment of visual violence (nightmare), by the grace of god, dean is a nerd, fledgling!sam, memory dreams, nightmares of past events, walt and roy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/pseuds/UmbraeCalamitas
Summary: Sam wakes up from a nightmare to his brother in a baking frenzy. It's March 14th, after all, and Dean Winchester loves his pie.





	Happy Pi[e] Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hyrulehearts1123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyrulehearts1123/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Offering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164552) by [TheRiverScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRiverScribe/pseuds/TheRiverScribe). 



> It's about a half hour past March 14th in my time zone, but I'm not waiting a whole year to post this. Happy Belated Pi[e] Day to all! 
> 
> For HyruleHearts1123, who has the coolest Pi Day shirt ever.

It was Dean screaming that woke him. 

Sam snapped awake from a dream about a shotgun pointed at his chest, the faces of Walt and Roy as clear-cut as though they were before him now. The sound of the double-barrel shotgun was loud in his ears, but louder still was the silence from the other side of the room, where Dean lay in a puddle of gore on the bed. 

So his screaming was… a relief. It meant that he was alive.

Although, it had stopped. 

A shudder rippled through him, bringing with it a cold chill that was too much like death. He threw himself out of the bed, startling Morpheus, who had been deeply asleep. 

_ Pup?  _ the dog asked, rolling to his feet as Sam struggled to escape the covers. His feet tangled in the sheets that had somehow wrapped themselves around his legs and he toppled from the bed with a gasp.

He landed with a fwump on a firm, yielding surface and it took him a moment to realize that Morpheus had shifted into his big form and caught Sam with his bulk. He was lying on the massive dog’s back, his head resting between Morpheus’ shoulder blades, and his one leg still tangled in the bedsheet.

“Morpheus?”

A cold nose snuffled at his neck and Sam shrieked, cringing away. A warm tongue licked his cheek.  _ Are you okay? _

The reason for his tumble came back to him like a slap to the face. “Dean,” he gasped, scrambling off Morpheus - or trying to. His ankle was still caught in the sheets and all he managed to do was lose his balance and slide down Morpheus’ side. He thumped to the floor, one leg still in the air, spluttering and spitting dog hair from his mouth. 

Morpheus peered down at him, mouth open in a grin, and licked his tongue across Sam’s forehead.  _ Would you like some assistance, Pup? _

Sam felt tears fill his eyes and his vision blurred. Morpheus tilted his head to the side, his ears flattening across the back of his head.  _ Pup? _

“Is Dean okay?” he whispered, his chest aching. 

_ Your brother is fine. He’s in the kitchen with Castiel and your mother. _

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Morpheus’ tongue was warm as he gently licked away the tears that fell from Sam’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks.  _ I am certain, but we can go and see to make sure.  _ His head lifted his head and grabbed the edge of the bedsheet, pulling gently until Sam’s leg was freed. The sheet was dropped unceremoniously to the floor as Morpheus turned.  _ Up, Pup. _

Sam grabbed a handful of Morpheus’ thick fur and pulled himself onto the giant dog’s back. He buried his face in the thick white fur under his hands and dried his remaining tears as Morpheus trotted from the room, padding down the hall.

Before they even reached the kitchen, Dean’s voice cut out over the sound of laughter. “It’s not funny!” Sam felt his shoulders relax and his racing heartbeat slow. Dean didn’t sound worried. A little irritated, maybe. Sheepish, even. But not worried.

“It really is,” came Mary’s voice, filled with laughter. 

“C’mon Cas, tell me you’re on my side here.” 

“I do not understand how you can battle the denizens of Hell on a regular basis and yet be waylaid by a cardboard cylinder.” 

“Dude, the thing  _ explodes  _ when you touch it. Did you not hear it crack open? I almost lost an eye!”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was filled with exasperation. “It is a cylinder filled with dough. What could it possibly do to you?”

“You know what, Cas.  _ You _ open the next one and then we’ll see whose a wuss.” 

“I did not call you a wuss.” 

“Of course not.” 

“I’ll call you a wuss,” Sam said as Morpheus rounded the corner. His voice was a little raspy and he cleared his throat. “Dean, did you really scream because of dough?”

“They’re Pilsbury Dough Biscuits, dude, and I did not scream.” 

“You definitely did.” 

“How would you know, Sleeping Beauty? You look like you just woke up.” Dean’s voice sounded casual but Sam knew that squinting look for the close scrutiny it was. Dean knew something was wrong. He always did. 

Sam gave him a small smile, the best he could muster with the dream still on his mind, and he saw Dean’s mouth turn down in a frown. 

“Hey, Cas, you mind getting the pies out of the oven before the burn?”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel turned to his task as Dean walked over and stood in front of Sam where he sat on Morpheus’ back. He tilted his head to the side in an unconscious mimicry of Cas when he was trying to figure out a problem. “What’s up, man?”

To his shame, Sam felt tears well up in his eyes again. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice cracking as he wiped at his eyes. “I had a nightmare, that’s all. It’s stupid.” 

Dean sighed and his hands reached out, one snagging both of Sam’s hands and the other wiping away the tears with the edge of his sleeve. “You heard me scream and freaked, you mean.” 

Sam didn’t admit to that being true, but this was Dean, and that meant he didn’t need to. 

“I’m sorry, dude.” 

“S’ok. Just a stupid dream.” Sam reached out and snagged the cuff of Dean’s sleeve, fiddling with it as he refused to meet his brother’s eyes.

“Uh-huh. I bet it was stupid,” Dean scoffed. He reached out with his other hand and ruffled Sam’s hair. “Well, I got something that will make you feel better. Me and Mom and Cas made pie!”

Sam felt his lips quirk up at the corners. He knew Dean had been planning this for a couple weeks now and even though his brother hadn’t  _ said _ anything, Sam had known that the prospect of having a kitchen on the fourteenth of March was like a dream come true. 

“You’re such a nerd, Dean.” 

“Shut up. You’re just made Cas got to try the pie first.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked. Morpheus walked closer to the counter so Sam could see better. “Which one was your favorite, Cas?”

“I have not tried any of the pies yet, Sam,” Cas assured him as the seraph used the oven mits to transfer the last pie from the oven onto the counter. “And I do not know which one I will favor, although I am afraid that we will not be able to eat any of the cherry. Dean has already claimed it.” 

Dean’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and Sam looked over. “Do you even like cherry pie?”

“Pie is pie, Sammy, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t share it.” 

Beside Dean, Mary was trying to stifle her giggles into a hand. 

“You did, actually. As you put it in the oven, you kept saying ‘She’s my cherry pie.’ Though why you chose to sing your claim is beyond me, it seemed rather obvious that you wanted that pie to yourself.” 

“Cas, that’s not… it’s a song. It’s… you know what, nevermind.” Mary lost control of her laughter and snorted into her hand. “Oh, come on, Mom. Pull it together.” That only made her laugh harder. 

Dean sighed in exasperation but he was smiling as he grabbed a knife out of a drawer and walked over the pies on the counter. “So we’ve got cherry, peach, blueberry and elderberry, and apple. Which one do you want to try first, Sam?” He pointed the knife at Cas. “You don’t get to pick. Go sit down.” 

Mary giggled as she followed Cas, both of them sitting down at the table. 

“The blueberry-elderberry sounds good,” Sam said. All of the pies smelled amazing, the kitchen filled with the heavenly scent of fruit and warm dough. 

“Knew you’d pick that one, weirdo. Want a glass of milk to go with it?”

“If there’s any left when you’re done with it, jerk.” 

“Bitch. Go sit down on an actual chair, Don Quoxite, and I might even get a piece of pie for your dog.” 

_ Apple is my favorite. _

“He’d like a slice of apple pie, Dean.” 

“Of course he would. Go on, shoo.” 

At the table, Sam slipped off of Morpheus’ back and onto a chair next to his mom. She smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair. “Blueberry-elderberry is my favorite, too,” she said. 

“Yeah?” Sam smiled. It was amazing to learn of the things he shared with his mom. It was like finding a treasure chest full of puzzle pieces and fitting them into the empty places in his life. He didn’t think he would ever tire of it. 

“Mm-hm. And I like a big glass of strawberry milk to go with it.” 

“Strawberry?” Sam said and made a face. “Gross! That stuff tastes like Pepto-Bismol!” 

“I have to agree with Sam, Mom. That is disgusting. Thank you for not passing on that gene.” 

Mary laughed. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” 

Dean set plates in front of his mom and Sam, large pieces of pie billowing steam. They followed by large glasses of milk, no syrup, strawberry or otherwise, tainting their creamy color.

Dean returned with two bowls in hand and a jug of milk hooked around a finger. He set one in front of Cas and the other in the place next to him, then unscrewed the lid from the milk jug. “Okay, now, Cas,  _ this _ is how you eat apple pie.” He poured a generous helping of milk into each of the bowls, covering the large slices of steaming apple pie. He then handed Cas a spoon. 

The angel hesitated a moment, unsure, but as Dean sat down and dug into his own apple and milk concoction, the seraph broke off a piece of pie with his spoon and stuck it in his mouth. 

His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed with color as he hummed around the spoon. 

Sam laughed. “You like it, Cas?”

“That is a very unique flavor,” the angel said after he had swallowed the bite. “Yes, Sam, I like it very much.”

“Wait until you try the others,” Dean said, grinning. 

“We should save some from Gabe and Raphael when they get back from Heaven.”

“Pfft! Gabe can snap up his own pie. He’ll probably fill it with something gross, anyway. Like Skittles.” 

“I  _ like _ Skittles,” Sam muttered around a mouthful of pie. 

“Yeah, well, you’re weird. How do you like your pie, Furball?” he called to Morpheus. 

The dog’s head popped up over the table, white lips covered in the light brown syrup from his pie. His mouth dropped open in a doggie grin that needed no translation. 

“Well, good, glad you approve.” 

“This is really good, Dean.” 

“Mm, yes,” Mary said, “though I still don’t understand what we’re celebrating.” 

“It’s Pie Day,” Dean said, shoving another bite into his mouth. 

“When did that holiday start?”

Sam giggled. “It’s the fourteenth of March, Mom. You know, three point one four.”

Mary gave him a blank look for a moment before she got it and dissolved into giggles. “Pi Day?”

“Yeah,” Dean said gruffly, “what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing!” Mary laughed. “Happy Pi Day, boys.” 

 

The End


End file.
